Just Desserts

by Mary Calmes

  Masuya gestured toward the satchel he had carried upstairs and placed on my coffee table.

  “Nan desu ka?” I said in Japanese without even thinking about it. He, Masuya Fudo, was there in my home, and I’d always spoken to him in Japanese, never English. The longer he stayed, the more I’d use the language.

  “You will open when I am gone,” he responded in English, which was very telling. Both of us trying to bend to the other.

  “Mochiron,” I agreed. “Domo arigato, Masuya-san.”

  He sighed deeply. “You will come for my funeral and pay your respects. I’ve left word. Your place in the family is restored, and Satoru will take over for me.”

  I nodded, not liking the last part at all.

  “Or… when Satoru visits after the funeral, he may decide he wants a life here. With dual citizenship bought and paid for, it is for him to choose.”

  I was overwhelmed and Satoru was surprised, if the shock on his face was any indication. He’d resembled a fish out of water for a moment.

  “Father, I will do my duty to—”

  “You will do as you will. But one son is enough price to pay. The choice is yours, and you will have my blessing in either pursuit.”

  We were quiet, just the breeze blowing through my loft, tickling over our skin, fluttering curtains and ruffling the pages of open art books.

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, breaking the communion between us all. “Entrust me with one son, when you didn’t let me take care of the other?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You said what I was, was disgusting.”

  “No,” he barked, as was his way. “I said what you did was disgusting. Think back.”

  Was that right? It was all a blur of fear and pain.

  “You were raised as brothers—the shame was in that. It would have been the same were you a woman. You and Haru were to be siblings, not lovers.”

  So what I was, what Haru was, separately, he could have dealt with that. It was us together that broke him.

  “It is not—accepted,” he explained, choosing his words carefully. “But these things may be hidden. Your choices were your own.”

  I had to check. “You don’t care that I’m gay?”

  “No,” he agreed with no change in expression.

  Masuya trusted me to guide Satoru and help him make a decision that maybe he himself wanted for his son. I had to catch up to where he already was.

  “After the funeral,” he told his son. “You will return here. I am far too selfish to be without you until then.”

  I could tell how touched Satoru was. His father was not prone to any form of sentiment.

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” I told Masuya. “And I will be at the funeral.”

  Finishing my promise with a bow, I again waited until he returned it and straightened before I did as well.

  “Domo arigato,” he said quickly before turning for the elevator.

  I wasn’t ready for him to go, and yet, there was no more to say. Our part was finished.

  “I should walk you down.”

  “No,” Satoru said abruptly, but then softened his reply by offering me his hand. “I’ll see you at the funeral, and we’ll return together. Leave it to me. I’ll send you a plane ticket.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t do that.”

  “Please, Boone,” he whispered. “Allow me this kindness for my brother as well as myself.”

  When he said it like that, what could I do? “Okay,” I affirmed, my voice clogged with unshed tears, rough and gravelly. “Thank you.”

  His smile was brilliant and heartbreakingly similar to Haru’s.

  “We will show ourselves out. I will be in contact.”

  “I should give you my number.”

  “Ah, no, we have everything,” he said softly. “Father let you leave Tokyo, but never once lost track of you.”

  It was a surprise. “I thought he hated me.”

  “That was the whole problem, yes? You were as much his son as Haru and I.”

  I grabbed hold of the back of my couch so I wouldn’t collapse. Who knew words could be so very heavy?

  He gave me a last lingering grin and then joined his father in the freight elevator. Masuya never looked back.

  Staggering to the window, I watched the men clustered around the SUVs part for Masuya and Satoru. The door was opened for the old man and his son, and then all of them piled in. They were gone moments later. At the same time, I noticed Eiyad on the other side of the street, checking both ways before he bolted across. I was about to have company.

  He went around the side to the alley, and I buzzed him in so he could come up the stairwell to the second floor and then through the security door there up to my loft.

  “Boone!”

  “Here!” I yelled, making it back to the coffee table and the satchel.

  He came in the red door next to the kitchen pantry and jogged slowly over to me, not stopping until he was close enough to put a hand on my shoulder.

  “What the fuck, man? Why is the yakuza in your gallery?”

  I snorted out a laugh. “How did you know they were yakuza?”

  His mouth fell open. “I was fucking with you. Are you serious?”

  “It’s a long-ass story,” I sighed, suddenly exhausted.

  He gave my shoulder a squeeze before flopping down on the couch. He put his feet up on the Spanish baroque refectory table he himself had given me for my birthday the previous year. “I’m ready. Talk.”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on. Half the day is over,” he quipped. “My place is closed, your place is closed. Just fuck it and talk to me. Tell me a story.”

  Instead I reached for the satchel and pulled the red tissue–wrapped package out.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied, slowly slipping off the tie and then unwrapping it.

  “Oh, it’s a frame,” Eiyad said, standing up beside me, both of us gazing down at the 5x7 black and white photograph. “Fuck, man, there’s you. Look at you.”

  Look at me. I was so happy, my smile as it had not been in years, because I had one arm around Haru and the other holding my mother.

  “Your mom was hot.”

  I nodded.

  “Who’s that guy?” he asked, pointing.

  “Haru.”

  “And who are these guys and this woman?”

  It was a picture from a party, and normally Masuya never allowed them, not wanting the authorities to ever get ahold of any family pictures. Photographic evidence in the possession of law enforcement was a bad idea. But it had been Nozomi’s birthday, and she wanted a picture with my mom and me, with Haru and Satoru, herself and Masuya. It was the only one that had ever been taken, and in my grief I’d forgotten about it, though now I could recall the day it was taken so very clearly.

  I turned to regard my friend. “You’re sure you wanna know all this?”

  He tipped his head at me, the signal for me to go on.

  “I should wait and tell Scott too.”

  “No waiting necessary.”

  When I followed the sound of his voice, I found Scott standing in the same doorway Eiyad had come through, arms wrapped around himself, unsure, half in and half out of my space.

  “Come in,” I greeted, and he bolted forward, bumping into me hard, his arms tight in seconds, holding on. “You wanna hear the story?”

  He lifted his head, and I bent and kissed him before we both regarded the picture.

  “Oh, Boone, I’d recognize him anywhere. You gave your tattoo artist a perfect description from memory.”

  I really had.

  “And look at you,” he sighed, taking the framed photograph from me, reverently touching my face under glass. “God, I love this picture.”

  And I loved him.

  Chapter 9

  SCOTT INVITED Eiyad to meet his family and to bring Sanaa, whom he’d adored as soon as she met us at my place. She was thrilled to meet a
chef, and even better, she had actually eaten at Scott’s restaurant and could name some of the dishes. When she told him that his Sea Bass Cantabrico was to die for, he actually blushed. He was excited to add her to his clutch of friends.

  I arrived with everyone in tow, even Elaine and Sergio. Eiyad had called them after I finished telling my life story, and they were thrilled that Scott and I had finally decided to begin the rest of our lives. Sergio was as excited as his wife to finally have us be an official thing. And while they were not as close to me as Eiyad, friends were important because you chose them to take part in your life.

  We were standing in line to find out how long the wait for a table was and I was explaining about the chocolate mousse.

  “I’m afraid to eat it,” Elaine confessed. “I mean, what if it tastes like crap? Does that mean that Sergio’s not the one for me?”

  “What?” he asked irritably. “I’m the only one for you, ask anybody.”

  “What if the mousse doesn’t think so?”

  He peered over at me. “Help me explain that dessert had no agenda.”

  I started laughing until I saw Daniel and Justin sitting in the restaurant. What the hell?

  “Mr. Walton?”

  Head snapping up, I found one of Scott’s employees standing there in the brown polo, black pants, and half apron they all wore.

  “Yes,” I answered trying not to growl over seeing Scott’s ex. No, they hadn’t slept together, but Scott had dropped kisses on the man, and that in and of itself was going to make me hostile. I was very possessive, and it was a terrible trait I had never been able to dodge. After Haru, I’d never wanted to feel the loss again and so had curtailed the feeling as I distanced myself from others. But now, with Scott, I was completely buried under a landslide of raw emotions. The idea of anyone but me putting their hands—or mouth—on him was enough to transform me into a growly beast.

  “Good evening, sir. I’m Meredith. Chef has you in the big room in the back with his family. Would you and your party follow me, please?”

  She was adorable with her red hair and freckles, and just looking at her sweet face calmed me. “Absolutely.”

  As we crossed the floor, I was sure I was going to make it by Daniel without smacking him, without having to speak to him, and without having to acknowledge him in any way, but he stood and stepped into my path.

  I fisted my hand in preparation for the swing, waiting for whatever he was going to say.

  “You were right,” he said, clearing his throat. “The mousse is fantastic. I’m sorry I accused you of lying about it yesterday.”

  It felt like a million years ago. My whole life had changed in such a short time. “That’s what you’re sorry about?”

  I saw the warning in his look, like I’d overstepped, and I deserved that.

  “So you’re still planning on eating here?”

  He shrugged. “Scott invited Justin and me. He said he wanted to make amends and part amicably.”

  I nodded.

  “He’s treating tonight, which was very kind, but I can’t imagine we’ll be back.”

  It was good to hear. “Okay.”

  Glancing over at Justin, I found him gifting me with a gentle smile as he dragged his finger through a small, empty glass jar of what apparently had been the mousse they’d shared.

  My focus back on Daniel, I realized he was waiting. Patting his shoulder fast, I flashed him a quick grin. “Seems like you and Justin enjoyed your dessert, huh?”

  “Yes, we did,” he said, and I saw it, clear as day, the look of adoration on his face as he stared at his friend.

  I wanted to ask him, were things different between him and Justin suddenly? Was he gazing across the table and noticing Justin in a whole new light, or simply seeing him, really, truly, for the first time? Was there actually something magical about the mousse, or was it just the natural time for them to get together? And if that was the case, if the food wasn’t imbued with something mystical, then what was it with the timing and the chocolate confection?

  “Dude, I’m starving,” Eiyad grumbled behind me.

  “You have a good night,” I said as I moved by Daniel.

  “You have a good life,” he echoed.

  As we walked deeper into the restaurant to where all the long tables were, the ones that sat fifteen to twenty people, Scott waved from where he stood beside a man who looked just like him, only older, at one end of a table.

  I was nervous. I had to make a good impression and so had worn my black Ermenegildo Zegna suit paired with a black dress shirt and black wingtips. I didn’t wear a tie—I thought that would be pushing it—but as I closed in on the group, I realized I was dressed like the angel of death.

  “Fuck,” I swore under my breath.

  “You look fine, stop slouching,” Eiyad teased.

  Scott moved quickly to reach me, and when I saw the Hublot diving watch he was wearing, I couldn’t help the satisfied growl in the back of my throat. He didn’t want me to gift him with it, but basically I’d never have it on again. I liked that better, and so did he.

  “There you are,” he announced, placing one hand on the side of my neck, the other sliding along my waist as he stepped into me. “Everyone was just admiring your timepiece on me.”

  “I still think you should have picked something different.”

  “This one is made to go in the water,” he responded, unable to keep from tightening his grip on me. “It’s the perfect one.”

  I suspected we were no longer talking about the watch.

  “Always was, it just didn’t know it.”

  “The sentient timepiece?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Yes,” he husked, and I heard all the love and adoration and desire and need in the simple word. When he lifted for my kiss, I made sure to give him the same things back.

  When his mother made that sweet sound that mothers did when they saw their children were happy, I lifted my chin to look at her.

  Head tilted, she was smiling even though she was on the verge of crying.

  Scott took my hand and pulled me after him around the table to stand between his parents. “This is Boone,” he introduced. “And these are my parents, Lisa and Stuart Wren.”

  “Well, I should hope this is Boone,” his father groused as he rose, extending a hand to me. “I’d hate to think you kiss people you don’t know like that.”

  I shook Stuart’s hand firmly, and he added a hand on my bicep.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man that my son’s been talking about for the past two years,” he said warmly. “We’ve all been looking forward to this.”

  And by all, he meant his wife, Lisa, who couldn’t stop hugging me and his daughter, Jessie, who kept elbowing her brother in the side and giving him a leer accompanied by an eyebrow waggle. She was very cute at twenty-one. Scott rolling his eyes, in full brother mode, was enough to stop my heart.

  I could have a family again, and maybe, just maybe, I might get Satoru too. I knew Haru would have liked that.

  Watching everyone sit together, Lisa talking to Eiyad about antiques, listening to Sanaa explain to Stuart about Preservation Hall and the best days to go, and seeing Sergio and Elaine tell Jessie about the voodoo museum gave me a sense of calm I could never remember feeling. My life finally made sense.

  I was trying to explain it to Scott as he bustled around my loft at one in the morning, having brought more clothes than were, in fact, necessary.

  “You should sleep,” I suggested, sitting on my bed in a pair of sleep shorts, observing him. “We can do that in the morning.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he chirped back brightly, continuing to move clothes around, creating his side of the closet and mine. I couldn’t care less what area he claimed, where my shoes went, or how he integrated his socks into my drawers. The fact that he was doing it at all, consolidating our things, made me happier than I could have imagined. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying that once your fam
ily leaves, I’m going to do some renovations on your apartment and replace some furniture. It could use some updating.”

  “Whatever you want,” he informed me. “I don’t live there anymore, so you can do with it as you like.”

  “It’s still yours, though.”

  “Ours,” he corrected. “Everything of mine will be yours as well.”

  His absolute certainty made my heart swell. “Well, I’m gonna do the same.”

  “Which makes me unbelievably happy since I plan to live here with you for the rest of my life,” he sighed. “So I’m thinking my name should be on the deed.”

  “Yes, it should.”

  “Good,” he husked as he continued to organize his things into what was now our space.

  I’d asked after dinner as we were all having dessert—the chocolate mousse and café con leche—if Scott was sure he wanted to move in with me.

  He’d spun around to face me like he was startled.

  “What?”

  “That was already decided,” he said, suddenly sounding winded. “I mean—I packed.”

  “You packed?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, that’s good.” I grinned, leaning sideways to kiss his neck, turning it into a bite that moved along his jaw, suckling and tasting. “Then I don’t have to do it.”

  “So,” he gasped softly. “You want me there, no question.”

  “No question,” I promised.

  “Thank God.” His eyes drifted closed. “You scared the crap outta me for a second.”

  But I’d had no idea he meant all his clothes. All of us—me, Eiyad, Sanaa, Elaine, and Sergio—all had hangers full of clothes and assorted luggage as we made our way down Royal Street after midnight. Lisa had found the whole exodus hysterical.

  Scott had explained to them about Florence, and Jessie found the whole thing marvelous. It was not lost on me that the apartment smelled of lilac.

  “You stopped talking,” Scott reminded me as he shuttled around the bedroom before moving deep into the walk-in closet.